Three Old Sailors
by metroptimist
Summary: Everything is quiet in Storybrooke until one night Killian Jones has a realistic nightmare. He awakes to see that part of the dream, at least, was real. On the palm of his right hand is the black spot.


_Author note: Parts of this chapter have been edited due to confusion with the timeline. It is essentially the same, so don't worry. I didn't ruin anything. ;)_

**Chapter One: A Storm is Coming**

A young boy sat by the shipping docks on a worn leather trunk. It contained all his belongings but one- the silver music box he held in his hands. Tears streamed from his sky blue eyes as he murmured angrily to himself. He brushed his dark hair away from his face with blistered hands. They were red and chafed from dragging the trunk hastily through the village, but that was not the reason for his tears.  
His father had abandoned him in the night. They had planned to sail the seas together. They were going to have adventures together, but when he awoke that morning his father was already gone. He packed his things in a hurry and ran to the docks, hoping that his father was waiting for him, but the ship had left moments before. All these things he repeated aloud for only he and the sea to hear.  
He looked down at the music box in his hands and squinted as he noticed an unusual shadow on his right palm. He moved his hand, but the shadow was still there. Only, it wasn't a shadow; it was a black spot.  
A rough hand clamped around his shoulder and he looked up to see a familiar rugged face. A middle-aged man with weather-worn skin and a scraggly beard looked back at him with a penetrating gaze. "I'm coming for you," the man said in a low voice. He vanished a moment later and the little boy screamed.

Killian Jones awoke with a start and looked fearfully around him. Light had begun to pour through the windows of the _Jolly Roger _as the sun rose in the sky. He had been dreaming. That's all it was, he assured himself, just a dream. He dropped his feet over the side of the narrow bed and sat up, rubbing his face with his hand.  
He started to reach for his long leather coat when he saw a dark smudge on his right hand. He held his palm closer to his face and froze when he saw what it really was. The dream hadn't been just a dream. He had the black spot on his palm.  
He dressed in a hurry and attached a hook to the stump where his left hand used to be, before concealing the mark on his right with a thin scarf. There was nothing he could do about the spot, he knew that; he'd just have to get his affairs in order and pray he wouldn't be found.  
Killian ran onto the deck of his ship. The horizon was clear, like any other morning, but something felt wrong. The breeze was calm and the waves rolled in at a regular pace. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and that was precisely the matter. Normally when a sailor was marked with the black spot it took mere moments for the sea to blacken and churn in expectation of the storm. Now, when he looked out at the waters, it was peaceful and bright. It made him feel uneasy.

Emma Swan sat at her desk in the Storybrooke police department, gingerly eating a bear claw, when a familiar leather-clad figure entered the office.  
"Hook!" Emma said, surprised. She still referred to Killian by his moniker, despite their being close acquaintances. She quickly concealed her morning meal; not that he knew it was a highly fattening food, being new to the land, but there was always a chance he could find out later. "Did somebody steal your ship?"  
The pirate was puzzled by this question and paused before answering. "No, why? Was someone planning to?"  
"I was just trying to guess why you'd be here," Emma explained. "I haven't seen you in a few weeks and this seemed like an odd place for you to turn up."  
Killian took a chair from the corner of the room and put it down in front of her desk. When he sat down and looked Emma in the eyes, she instantly knew something was terribly wrong.  
"I'm not here about my ship," he began, "rather to tell you that someone I knew a long time ago, someone that I was on poor terms with, is coming to Storybrooke. He can be very dangerous, but everyone should be safe if they stay on dry land."  
"Is he some kind of merman?" Emma teased.  
Killian smiled at this, lifting the serious atmosphere for a moment before Emma continued. "I can issue warnings to everyone so they know to stay in town, but it would help if I knew more about the problem."  
Killian dismissed this idea with a wave of his hand, not realizing that this brought Emma's attention to the scarf wrapped around it. "I'm not sure of his intentions," he said. "He might mean to kill me, or simply make amends. There's no point in disturbing the townspeople when we're uncertain of the situation. I'll handle everything from my ship."  
"To _kill _you? Shouldn't you stay on land as well?"  
"If I stayed on land, this man would never leave. He's extraordinarily determined. I've handled matters like this before, and this occasion will be no different."  
"Are you sure? I can ask Regina to put a protection spell on your ship."  
Killian shook his head. "I just wanted you to know," he said as he stood up to leave. Before turning away, he reached for Emma's hand and kissed it. Even though she pretended to be displeased by this action, her hand still shook after he was gone.

At lunchtime that same day, Emma sat in Granny's diner with her son Henry and Henry's father, Neal. It was the first time they'd all eaten together that week, and for some reason she felt uneasy. It was too many firsts in one day, she assumed.  
She was thinking about what Killian had told her that morning when Henry nudged her. It occurred to her that she hadn't said a word since ordering their lunch. "Is everything okay?" Henry asked.  
"I'm fine. Something odd happened this morning, though," she admitted.  
Neal swallowed a bite of his burger. "What's that?"  
"Well, Hook came into the precinct this morning and told me that someone from his past was coming to Storybrooke. Someone sinister from the sound of things."  
"Oh no," Neal groaned. "Please say he's just after Hook and not the whole town. I'm sick of fighting." Emma raised her eyebrow at him and he cleared his throat. "I just mean he'll be a lot easier to handle if he's only after one man and not mass-destruction."  
"Hook said that everyone will be safe if they stay on dry land. He's the only one in danger."  
"We're safe on land?" Henry questioned, "Maybe it's King Triton. He hates pirates because they killed his queen."  
Neal nodded his head in agreement. "That makes sense. Should we check with Ariel? She'd probably know if her father has a grudge against Hook."  
"No, I already guessed it was a merman and Hook looked at me like I had cake on my face," Emma grumbled.  
"Hook always looks at you like you have cake on your face," Neal teased. "Are you sure he wasn't just admiring the way you say 'merman'?"  
"Shut up, Neal, I'm better at reading people than that. It's not a merman."  
"I don't get it, then," Henry said. "If it's not King Triton, who could it be?"

At the far edge of Storybrooke's harbor a lone cloud stirred up a storm. Thunder and lightning roared through the sky as a whirlpool formed below the phenomena, catching the attention of several fishermen. The storm spread rapidly, frightening the sailors and prompting them to return to shore. When a lone ship emerged from the whirlpool, the remaining seamen ran to their homes as fast as they could, shouting "A ghost ship! There's a ghost ship in the harbor!"  
Amongst a crowd of other people, this caught Killian's attention, and he ran to the shore to see the ship. It rocked violently in the waves caused by the storm, but he could plainly see a tattered pirate's flag flying above the mast. The ship turned slightly as it steadily approached the docks and the name came into view.  
Killian's eyes widened and his heartbeat quickened. He ran to his ship's cabin and looked about anxiously for a weapon. In the top drawer of a desk he found his best pistol and shoved it into his belt. Any minute now they would board his ship, and he had to be ready for anything.  
The ship cast anchor directly behind the _Jolly Roger_. Its captain waited solemnly at the stern of the ship. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with light blue eyes and dark, greying hair. His face was lined and tanned from many years of seafaring, but his wrinkles were well-concealed behind his short, yet scraggly, beard. He seemed like an ordinary man of his occupation, except for the large tentacles tattooed on both of his arms. He was a very determined man who had been waiting a majority of his life to find Killian, and now that he had, he needed to be sure his entrance was just right.  
When the ship came to a complete halt, he ordered his crew to remain on board. After his first mate verified that Killian was indeed in his cabin, he disappeared in a cloud of dark purple smoke and reappeared on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_. He stepped forward and burst through the locked cabin door with a simple wave of his hands. At this moment Killian stepped back and pulled his gun from his belt, pointing it at the intruder's head.  
"I just want to talk," the captain assured him. He gestured for Killian to lower the gun, but Killian wouldn't move.  
"Then start talking," he replied.


End file.
